Kiss of Death
by Peyton Stark
Summary: Mafia. AU! Modern-day! Jack/Will. Gore. Adult themes. Sex. Mature content. Trying to escape the Mafia was improbable. But, as Jack is about to find out, not impossible with a certain stubborn Turner by his side. Will wants in to the Mafia but it's not easy, he teams up with former mob boss, Jack Sparrow, to get initiated, and finds himself slowly but surely... full summary inside!


**KISS OF DEATH**

–

 **Definition:** _ **Kiss of Death:**_ _ **a Mafia signal that someone has been marked for execution. The receiver is now living with death hanging over his head.**_

 **A/N:** _ **I'm in no way an expert on the Mafia. In fact I have no clue what I'm doing really [nervous laughter]. I am trying to make it as believable as possible, but things will be twisted slightly to fit with the plot and the characters. I wrote this very quickly and any mistakes are my own. Characters will obviously be a little OOC. But give me a chance and I'll take you into a new, exciting world!**_

 _Summary: Trying to escape the Mafia was improbable. But, as Jack is about to find out, not impossible with a certain stubborn Turner by his side. Will wants in to the Mafia but it's not easy, he teams up with former mob boss, Jack Sparrow, to get initiated, and finds himself slowly but surely making his mark on the jaded crime lord. When a kiss of death is given to Jack he has just days left to untangle himself from the Mafia, but can he leave his young protege when a war of gangs looms ominous in the near future? And will a secret between them break their forming bond forever? Mafia PoTC! AU! Modern-day! Jack/Will. Gore. Adult themes. Sex. Mature content._

 **Chapter ONE:** A Turn of Events

He'd die fighting. It was as simple as that.

He knew it was coming; the _kiss of death_ , before it was planted on his lips like a horrid prophecy. His fate was sealed the moment the boss gave him a kiss. How ironic, that such an innocent thing like a kiss could hold so much foreboding. Jack wasn't dense, daft, or dumb. He knew what he'd done to deserve such a kiss. He had betrayed the boss. He'd rallied against him in a bid for freedom and in return he got sentenced to death...with a single, fleeting kiss.

Jack stumbled back away from the boss when the front of his jacket was released and swallowed thickly. He could still smell cigarette smoke and alcohol from the man before him. It was stuck up his nose, it smelled a little like familiarity and a lot like his demise. His death.

"I won't pretend that wasn't hard for me to do, Jack."

Jack stared steadily at the boss, who was only a few years older than him. Given that they were almost in the same age group the boss had lines on his face, around his eyes and lips, like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Or just the weight of many men's lives, Jack thought. His life included, shortly.

"You betrayed your family. It had to be done."

Jack didn't respond, too caught up in thoughts of escape. He'd be allowed to leave the manor, he knew this. But he'd need to escape the assassination attempt that was hot on his heels. The kiss was a warning. And Jack was hell bent on heeding said warning.

"You're life won't be spared just because you were once boss. You have broken my trust, I won't risk my life just to pardon a traitors life."

Jack wanted to nod, or say something scathing in return, he wanted to run from the room, or throw a punch and get out some of his frustration. He wanted to do it all, and yet, none of it. He just wanted to live. But death was racing for him at a million miles per hour, he was a dead man walking. No one escaped the Mafia alive. The only way to get out was to be six feet under. And Jack didn't particularly like that idea.

"Get out of my sight."

Jack wasn't really given a choice for as soon as the words escaped the burly man's lips his henchman was moving from the doorway and grabbing Jack's collar, bodily dragging him from the room. Jack twisted out of the man's grip and glared his way.

"I can walk myself out." He snapped.

The man waved a careless hand to the hallway leading to the exit and Jack turned and sauntered from the manor. His dignity only just in tact, his fear raging as wave upon wave of panic crashed over him, suffocating his lungs until he was sure he was about to have some bloody panic attack.

Halfway across the courtyard he slammed solidly into a warm body. He had been staring at his boots, thinking hard on how to escape the life he had made for himself without being shut up in some coffin and buried in the dirt. He looked up sharply to see a young man, barely old enough to shave, Jack thought. The kid was watching Jack with round eyes and Jack offered up a grunt of askance.

"You're Jack Sparrow." The kid said.

"Hadn't noticed." Jack bit back sarcastically. Not in the mood to converse with some stranger. Only, the young man looked familiar. His hair was dark, framing his face, his lips were generous but not plump, his gaze was dark and it wasn't so much the colour of his eyes that alerted Jack to who the kid might have been, so much as the shape to them. "Who might you be?" he inquired, but if his gut instinct was correct he already had the answer.

"Will Turner,"

Jack's expression must have cut him off, for he slammed his lips shut and stared intently at Jack. Jack stared right back.

"Never knew Bill had a son." He mused.

"You knew my father?"

"In a manner of speaking." Jack said.

A wistful expression fluttered over Will's face. Jack felt a jolt of knowing in his gut as he recalled what had happened to the kids father. 'Bootstrap' Bill Turner. The name said it all, really. He'd been drowned, concrete bricks strapped to his boots so he couldn't surface. It had been Jack's first time watching a man die.

It had been his first kill.

He wasn't proud of it, and seeing Will Turner in front of him only brought his conflicting emotions to the forefront.

The Mafia wasn't for the faint hearted. Jack knew this. Yet, every kill he had made had torn a chunk of his heart out. Ate away at his resolve, until he knew it was time to leave, to escape the men who he had once called family. Escape wasn't easy though. Not when death was after him.

"How do you know me?" Jack wanted to know after a pause of silence lingered between them.

Will lifted his chin and said, "You're the boss."

"Was."

"Huh?"

"I _was_ the boss. Got demoted, so to speak, a few months ago."

"Oh," was all Will said in reply.

Jack thought the conversation was over and made to brush past, only to be stopped by a hand gripping his wrist. It was instinct that made Jack rip his arm out of Will's grasp. Will's eyebrows furrowed and he held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. Jack quirked a brow into his hairline in question, trying to play his reaction off as being brusque.

"I came here looking for you." Will told him.

This piqued his interest and also made a cold ball of dread plummet into the pit of his stomach. He quelled the desire to take off running or to pull his handgun on the kid. He was rather certain that Will wasn't the assassin hired to off him. But, why else would he be looking for Jack?

"You did, did you?"

"Yes. I need your help."

"My help?" Jack parroted.

Will looked exasperated. "You're the only person that would have influence over _him_."

"I'm not the boss any more, kid. I don't hold influence over much of anything." Jack told him bluntly. Will wasn't deterred. In fact he seemed even more determined.

"He has Elizabeth," he stated as if that chunk of information would somehow coax Jack into agreeing to help him.

"Who's Elizabeth?"

"Weatherby Swann's daughter. You know of him, don't you?"

Jack did, in fact, know of Weatherby Swann. A feared Mafia boss. Jack had heard rumours of a daughter, but never thought them to be anything more than just that.

"I've heard of him." Jack replied.

"Barbossa kidnapped her –"

"You mean _Hector_ Barbossa?"

"No, the other Mafia boss called Barbossa." Will said with heavy sarcasm lilting his tone. Jack almost smirked, but held it behind his stoic facade. Instead he cocked his hip out and cupped it with his hand, effectively looking impatient. Even when he wasn't entirely tired of the conversation.

"And you want to rush to her rescue and gain her undivided attention? Hm?"

"No." Will said. Which threw Jack off course.

"No?"

"I want to be initiated into Weatherby's gang."

Jack actually laughed in Will's face. Which earned him a reproachful stare and a clenched jaw from the kid.

"You don't have the first clue what it takes to be in the Mafia, boy." Jack stated. "It's not as simple as saving pretty girls, you've got to kill, steal, and you can't feel, or else you're considered weak. How do you think you'd go taking a man's life?"

Will's generous mouth tightened. Jack found it an oddly pleasing sight. He didn't dwell on that train of thought for long however, he had more pressing issues to attend to.

"I've got what it takes. My father was in the Mafia."

"And you're trying to follow in his footsteps, are you?" Jack asked. Again, that same jolt of emotion clawed at his innards at the mention of Bill Turner. "Become a fearsome mob boss, perhaps? It doesn't work that way. You'd be dead within hours of initiation. If not by a rival gang, than by your own hands. It's a tough life, not for the faint of heart."

Will's dark eyes flashed with some fervent emotion that Jack couldn't decipher. "I'm not faint hearted." He said, firmly.

Jack shrugged non-committally.

Will glared.

It wasn't a bad look on him, Jack thought, he rather liked the way Will's nostrils flared with frustration and how his hands clenched into fists by his sides.

"Will you help me?" Will finally asked.

Jack made a show of looking at his nails for a pause. "What's in it for me?"

"I – I..."

"Hadn't thought that far ahead I see. If you want into this life, you must realise that everything comes with a price. Nothing is given freely. There's always a cost."

Will looked despondent and Jack realised he had nothing to offer him. Jack moved to saunter away when Will stopped him, not by touch this time, rather by voice.

"Wait!"

"Hm?"

"I could give you something, but it's not much, my father left it to me."

Jack turned on his heel, "And what might it be?"

Will rummaged in his jacket pocket for a moment before pulling out a chain. On the end of the chain was a medallion. Gold and shiny. Jack cocked an eyebrow up and stared.

"It's Jones's." Will admitted. Jack felt a chill race down his spine at the name of a rival and powerful mob boss. "Or rather it was his until he gave it to my father."

"And what exactly is it?"

"A necklace." Will answered like Jack was dumb. "It's a symbol of rank within Jones's gang." He went on to say.

"How highly ranked would one be if they owned it?" Jack inquired. A flurry of inspiration fluttering like clumsy moths in his stomach.

Will looked him dead in the eye and said, very quietly, "They'd be untouchable."

Jack wanted to hear that. He acted nonchalant, when in reality a plan was rapidly forming in his mind. If he got his hands on the necklace he'd be ranked higher than his boss. He'd be safe. No one could touch him. He had heard rumours of the necklace, snippets of myth, but it was his only chance.

With a stoic facade in place he said, "You sure you want to do this, boy? Get involved with the Mafia? It'll end your freedom." He warned.

Will pocketed the necklace. "I've never wanted anything more."

"Alright." Jack said. "I accept."

He wasn't stupid enough to demand the necklace in advance. The kid was naive but not dumb. So instead he brushed his dreadlocks over his shoulders and said, "What's the plan?"

Will opened his mouth, closed it, repeated it a few times, then stuttered, "I hadn't thought, well, I didn't think that you'd agree."

"You've got no plan, have you?"

"Not really."

"You want to rescue Ms. Swann, eh?"

"Yes."

"To gain the respect of her father?"

Will dipped his chin, "And to be initiated into his gang." He added.

Jack mirrored Will's previous nod. "So, what's the first thing you need to do?" Will stared blankly at him. Jack stared back steadily. "You need to find out where Barbossa took the girl. Without that bit of knowledge you're running around blind and putting yourself in unneeded danger."

Will surprised him in the next moment. "I know where he took her."

Jack done a double take, couldn't help it. "Right. And where might that be?" he responded.

Will leaned in closer, so close Jack could smell him. He smelled a damn sight better than his boss, like clean clothes and shampoo and something a little like green apples. Jack caught himself mid sniff and spluttered inelegantly. Now was not the time to be smelling the kid. He needed to keep his head straight, so to speak. Will drew nearer and then whispered into Jack's ear. His breath was hot and moist against the shell of it. It made a tiny ripple of a shiver dance through Jack's muscles. He played it off by shifting closer to Will as if in curiosity.

" _The Locker_."

Jack inhaled the wrong way. Spit went down the wrong pipe and he choked, coughing gruffly. "The Locker?" he was finding himself repeating the kid's words a lot. Will pulled away and Jack was impressed that he had the sense to whisper that bit of information to him rather than expel it into the courtyard loudly. "You certain about that?"

"Yes."

"And you think the two of us can take down the entire mob at The Locker, hm?"

"Maybe not alone, but surely you know some people who could assist us."

"I'm not the boss any more."

"You've got men in high places though, surely?" Will persisted.

Jack huffed.

Will stared imploringly.

Jack shifted and then sighed.

Will's lips curved into a fleeting smile.

"I have a few. But too few to get the job done. It'd be madness to go to The Locker so unprepared and with too little men. It'd be suicide."

"Madness? Yes. Suicide? Maybe not."

"What's in your head, boy?" Jack asked, catching on to Will's grin that was just a tad too sneaky.

"We have the necklace. No one in The Locker would know me, I could play the part of an overseas Mafia boss. I'd be untouchable. I'd get respect and could easily bargain for Elizabeth."

"There's no respect within the Mafia, only fear." Jack muttered. Will wasn't quieted.

"I could pass for a boss, right?" he asked Jack.

Jack squinted at him, running his gaze down Will's body slowly. He had a tapered waist, he was lithe but slightly muscular, tall and firm. He didn't check all the boxes as far as appearance went, but the biggest give away was that he was far too young. Too innocent looking, Jack thought. He pursed his lips and tilted his head to the left.

"How old are you?"

Will blinked but answered after a pause. "I'm twenty-two."

Jack nodded. "Okay, let me rephrase that question. How old are you _really?_ "

Will stared him down for a beat. "Nineteen." He admitted.

Jack raked his gaze up and down Will's figure. He was mildly amused when he got a soft, pink blush in response. "You'll never pass as a boss being so young."

"You can't exactly be the one to wear the necklace," Will informed. "You're too well known."

Jack frowned but conceded the point with a bob of his head. "Then we man you up a bit. You need a scar."

"A scar?" at least Jack wasn't the only one repeating words.

"Every good Mafia boss has some sort of scar." He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and showed Will the 'M' burned into his skin. A simple mark of a boss.

"That's a burn."

"Same difference."

Will's eyes lingered on his arm, and then he pointed to Jack's tattoo near his burn. "What if I got a tattoo?"

Jack hummed. "Could work. Be more believable if you did. Most gangs have a tattoo as identification."

Will grinned. "Know of anyone who'd design and do one?"

Jack had a few people in mind, but one person jumped first to his mind, he nodded and said, "Tia Dalma. She's the best when it comes to tattooing."

"Then we have a plan." Will summed up.

"Part there of." Jack agreed.

There was a noise from the front door to the manor and Jack whipped around quickly to spot the henchman striding towards them. He froze, forgot to breathe, and then begun to, as calmly as possible, walk in the other direction. Will followed with a curious raise of his eyebrows.

"I thought you lived here?" he asked.

"I did."

"Past tense?"

"Not boss any more, kid."

Will had to lengthen his strides to keep up with Jack's quick pace. "But even so you're still in the gang."

"Right." Jack muttered. "Mafia is for life." He added, a little high-pitched.

Will didn't push him further on the topic, instead he walked silently for a minute, before saying, "How'd you know my father?"

Jack's gut clenched into a tight crumple. "It's a long story."

"We're going to have time, you may as well begin it."

Jack wanted nothing more than to _not_ get into anything related to Bill Turner.

He sighed but was saved the duty of replying when they reached the gates of the manor and subsequently the road. Jack's black Escalade was parked on the curb. He noticed there wasn't any other cars.

"How'd you get here?"

"I caught the bus."

"Let me guess; you need a ride home?"

"I don't mind catching the bus back. You've already given me your help, that's enough to take from you." Will replied.

Jack looked at him, studying his profile, he looked sincere and Jack realised just how innocent Will Turner was. He didn't know how cut-throat the Mafia could be, and Jack almost didn't want him to find out.

"Get in the car." Jack said, a bit more brusquely than he had planned.

Will shot him a look that was hard to define, but Jack liked the undertones of surprise there. It made Will's lips part and his eyes went wide. "You don't have to give me a ride."

"The offer is only there for another three seconds...," Jack stated, then promptly began to count backwards from three.

"Okay, I'll take you up on the offer." Will interrupted when Jack reached two and a half.

Jack grinned and pulled the Escalades keys from his jeans pocket. They jingled as he unlocked the car. Almost in unison they climbed into the cabin. As soon as both doors were shut and the engine purring, Jack could smell Will's scent. It wasn't strong, but for some reason it drove him crazy. He cleared his throat for absolutely no reason whatsoever before pulling away from the curb and kicking it into second gear.

#

Jack was speeding. Not that he minded, but it appeared the kid did. He was gripping his seatbelt across his chest like it was his only lifeline. Jack spared him a few glances, catching sight of Will also sneaking him glances; fleeting, quick looks that made Jack realise that Will thought him high. Or, at least high up in the Mafia. Which wasn't entirely untrue. Give or take one kiss of death he had received. Jack was – _had_ – been high up in the ranks. Hell, he'd been a mob boss for two years before he was abruptly hoisted from his position from his apparently loyal men. Jack liked to think he still had it. The energy, the desire, the jaded nature, the bluntness that went along with being in the Mafia. Truth was though he'd lost a lot of faith in himself to function properly within the labyrinth of mob bosses and henchmen.

Murder wasn't the issue. Don't get him wrong, it was at first, but after the first five times he had learned to detach himself from the act. _Ruthless_. It made him ruthless. Callous and kind of a monster, but that wasn't what bothered Jack about being involved in crime. What bothered him was the lack of loyalty within the Mafia. Sure, you came across the odd person who would stand by your side through thick and thin, but they were usually the type of people to die a painful, grotesque death, sadly.

Maybe he had it backwards. Maybe he was supposed to be not okay with the killing and more okay with the lack of trust and loyalty. Jack had always been a bit backwards though, so he guessed it was only natural for him to think that way.

"You're running from something."

Will's soft tenor brought him back to the road and he gripped the steering wheel in his hands so tight his knuckles turned white. "What makes you say that?" he replied as airily as he dared.

Will was looking directly at him, still clinging to his seatbelt, and he huffed unimpressed laughter. "You've got dread written all over your face. What are you running from?"

The question was innocent enough, Will had no idea that Jack was running from his own demise, so why should he be careful with his questions? Still, Jack snapped his attention onto the younger man and glared.

"Ever heard of the 'shut your teeth' game?"

Will watched him warily.

"Basically you close your teeth and don't open them until I say so. Got it?"

"I can still talk through my teeth." Will said, primly. Jack was too surprised to be annoyed, instead he rolled his eyes heavenward and focused back onto the road. They were in a residential area, yet he was doing seventy, just over. "And anyway, we're going to be working together, we need to be able to trust one another."

"The Mafia isn't about trust. It's about fear and influence and blood. _Spilling_ blood, to be more exact." Jack stated.

The next words out of Will's mouth startled Jack into almost stalling the Escalade. "Have you killed anyone?"

The motor hiccuped and Jack saved it by revving the engine a bit harder than necessary. "Why do you want to know?" he deflected with a question of his own.

"Shouldn't I have the right to know?" Will played him up with a retorting question.

Jack frowned, flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, and then said, lowly, "I wouldn't have gotten as far as I did if I hadn't got my hands dirty."

"With blood?" Jack sent Will a raised eyebrow. "You got your hands dirty with blood, that's how you came to be a mob boss?"

Jack dipped his chin.

Will was quiet for a pause.

"How many people?" Will said slowly. "How many people have you killed?"

"Does it matter?" Jack asked, curtly. "Will it matter how many people I've killed once we are done with your little rescue attempt? I did what I had to do to get far. What's done is done."

Will licked his lips with a brush of his tongue. Jack only noticed because he was staring directly at him. When Will's gaze turned darker Jack flicked his attention back onto the road.

"Three?"

"No."

"Two?"

"No."

"Are you going to say no to every guess I make?"

"Yes."

Will sighed and then unclasped his hands from around the belt to fiddle with the buttons to the radio. Jack watched him but didn't say anything, not even when he twisted the volume up higher. The song that was playing was unfamiliar to Jack, but he never really much cared for music any way.

"Five?"

Jack turned a half hearted glare in Will's direction. It wasn't heeded.

"Higher? Lower?"

"You're not seriously playing this game are you?"

"Hot or cold?"

"Don't test my patience, boy." Jack groused. It didn't have the desired effect, Will chuckled. It was a pleasant sound, warm and rich. Jack didn't know why he liked it so much.

"Fine, I'm going to say five."

"If you were to be talking about my first few weeks in the Mafia." Jack added.

Will's dark eyes went wide and he bit his bottom lip briefly, something that made Jack's stomach flip and unfurl with a warmth that was uncomfortable but addicting.

"Seven?"

"Cold."

"Ten?"

"Higher."

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. You're way off."

Will blew out his cheeks with a breathy exhale, flopping back into the seat, "Okay. Thirty?"

"Warmer."

" _Forty?_ " Will squeaked.

"Try twenty-five. Or there about."

Will gaped, it was a good look on him. And Jack's libido agreed immensely.

"But... _how?_ "

Jack flashed Will an odd look, "You want me to recount how I killed them?"

Will back-peddled and shook his head, his dark hair whipped at his cheeks. Jack had the inane urge to reach out and tuck it behind the kids ear. He realised what he had just thought and instantly felt a roiling guilt lurch up his throat. He'd killed Will's father. And now he was thinking debauching thoughts about Will. It wasn't right, not even for a former mob boss.

"No, I mean, how did you kill so many? You're not old."

"I'm older than you. The life of a criminal isn't easy, death is always present, and you have to fight it off on a daily basis and hope you're not the next victim to end up with a bullet between their eyes or a knife in their spine."

Will visibly shivered. Jack took a deep breath but didn't say any more. He wouldn't terrify the kid, if only because he had something of value to Jack. A way out of his self dug grave, so to speak.

"Is it hard?"

"Is what hard?" Jack questioned.

Will chewed on his lip almost nervously. "Taking someone's life?"

"Depends on what kind of weapon you have."

Will let out a shaky breath, it could almost have passed for a laugh. "No, I mean, _emotionally_. Is it hard emotionally to take someone's life?"

Jack had long since lost the emotion that came with making a kill. But he could recall the first time he had killed. Bill Turner had been his first kill, and the kill that had landed him in high rank amidst the mob bosses. It hadn't been easy. Yet, all the same, it had been _too_ easy. Stealing a man's life was simple when one knew their weakness and how to exploit said weakness. There had been a crushing grief, a suffocating sense of fear, a crippling despondency, and the pain of a piece of his innocence being burned to ash. Aside from that, it wasn't hard. Just _too easy._ Scarily easy, really.

"It's...different."

"That's not an answer!" Will exclaimed.

Jack gritted his teeth, he wasn't annoyed per se just confused why Will needed to know such information. "It's the only one you're getting."

#

The rest of the trip to Will's apartment was uneventful. In fact, it was almost boring. Will remained quiet and Jack didn't feel like striking up a conversation. So, they sat in silence with only the hum of the radio between them.

As Jack neared the complex where Will lived, the kid turned to him. "I wanted to say thank you." He mumbled. "So, _thank you_. I appreciate your help. And the lift home." Will added.

"Rule one when it comes to the Mafia, don't ever thank someone before the deed is done. You never know if they'll flake on you." Jack stated. Will shrugged his shoulders. He was silent for a pause before speaking quietly.

"Technically I'm not in the Mafia yet."

"Maybe not, but you will be soon, and it's better to start learning early rather than later."

"Do you carry a gun?" Will asked suddenly, throwing Jack for a loop.

"Why?" he asked, a bit sharply than he intended to.

Will was staring at the road with a faraway expression in his eyes. "A knife?"

"I carry both." Jack admitted. "Why?" he questioned again.

Will shrugged once more, "Just wondering. You know, in case whatever you're running from decides to catch up."

Jack narrowed his eyes at Will.

Will continued to stare at the road.

Jack pressed his lips together firmly not liking the emotion he could see behind Will's veneer. It was panicked and untamed. It confused Jack. Was the kid afraid of him? Or of what he was running from? A breath of a second later Jack got his answer.

"I think someone's going to try and kill us." Will said, softly, so softly Jack just about missed it. Would have missed it had he not of been staring at Will's lips.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think a shadowy silhouette bodes well." Will stated still watching the road intently.

Jack wrenched his eyes towards to road in a heartbeat, only then seeing a dark figure in the middle of it up ahead. He wasn't familiar, but he was imposing. Jack knew it was the hit man hired to kill him, and a rising panic clambered into his chest, making it ache heavily.

"Tell me what's going on, Jack?" Will posed it as a question, a plea. Jack couldn't speak however, his voice had deserted him and all he did was pull his foot off the accelerator and slow the car down a fraction. As if he could postpone his own death. Be late to his own murder.

Will was breathing heavy; shaky and sharp inhales and exhales that only made the panic in Jack's chest more prominent. "Jack?"

"On my word I want you to duck in your seat. Don't hesitate and don't ask questions, just do exactly as I say. Understand?" Jack said. Will shot him a startled look, there was a naive fear in them that was Jack's undoing and he gave the kid a weak, brittle smile that didn't even begin to reach his eyes.

"What's going on –?"

"No questions. Just, do as I say."

Pressing his foot to the gas Jack sped up, faster and faster, he flicked through the gears and kicked it into fourth before they had reached the hit man. Upon speeding toward the cloaked man Jack spoke through his lips a single word.

"Down."

Will was, thankfully, compliant. He ducked in his seat, his supple body bending low until he was out of sight.

Jack reached for the black handgun holstered to his hip, ripped it out, and held it low. He ignored Will's tiny gasp of shock and continued to push his foot to the accelerator. The Escalade roared and lurched forward. He wasn't trying to speed past the man. Rather, he was bent on running him down.

It appeared the hit man was savvy to Jack's plight. And within a breath there was a sleek handgun aimed in Jack's direction. He didn't flinch, duck, or swerve, he did however curse colourfully and slam the gears into fifth. Will made a noise that was close to a whimper. Jack spared him a look, finding the young man staring at him with round eyes and parted lips.

"This is how it's going to go down." Jack said under his breath. "I'm going to take out the hit man and you're going to stay low and not get in my way."

Will nodded. Jack hummed.

The shout of a gun had Will jerking fitfully and Jack did duck this time. The shatter of the windscreen was loud, but not as loud as the squeal of the Escalades brakes as Jack pulled it into a spin. Aiming directly for the man on the road.

If he had been more prepared he would have attempted a shot out the gaping, broken windscreen. As if was, he hung on tightly and concentrated on hitting his target.

Another shot was fired, deafening and breathtaking. Jack swore and jerked the wheel to the left. He heard Will thump into the door but didn't take his eyes away from the hit man. The man in question was aiming his handgun and lining up his next shot seemingly fearless of the car hurdling for him.

Jack's heartbeat was a hammering bah-boom behind his ribs. His palms were slippery with sweat, but he held on and screeched toward the man at such speed that smoke from burning rubber tires drifted into the cabin.

"You're mad!" he heard Will shout.

"Just a little." Jack confessed. "This probably wouldn't work if I wasn't." He said and he floored it.

There was a blaring gunshot, the cry of rubber tires, Will's rather crass cursing, and then Jack felt the car rock with a sickening thump and crack. The gunshots stopped. The car spun in a half circle before jerking to a sudden halt as he engaged the brakes.

Jack looked out the shattered windscreen at the awkward tangle of bent and broken limbs that laid hapless in the middle of the road. Blood puddled around the hit man, encasing him in a misshapen circle of red so dark it was almost black. It had been easy. Too easy, Jack thought. A trained hit man wouldn't have been such an easy target.

"Oh my God."

Jack looked to Will who was peeking over the dashboard and looking at the sickening scene. A small 'o' on his lips.

"Best be getting used to that, boy. If you want to be in the Mafia." Jack told him. He started up the car and took off as quickly as the spent engine would allow.

"Where are we going?" Will asked once they were a few blocks away from the dead hit man. His voice trembled just enough for Jack to know he was scared.

"Some place safe."

"Which is?"

"A friends. Gibbs." Jack replied. Not giving Will anything more.

After a moment of tense silence Will said, "I guess that makes twenty-six."

Jack almost laughed. "I guess it does." He admitted ruefully.


End file.
